


God

by ebsmith



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls Online
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternative Perspective, Character Study, Character of Faith, Dark Magic, Elder Scrolls Lore, Fate, Fictional Religion & Theology, Headcanon, Introspection, M/M, Magic, Necromancy, Short, The Old Ways, The Sload, True Love, Vignette, Worm God
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:47:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25268584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ebsmith/pseuds/ebsmith
Summary: In which Vanus tries to understand. For better or worse.
Relationships: Vanus Galerion/Mannimarco
Kudos: 13





	God

"Let me meet your God," Vanus says one day.

Mannimarco is silent for ages, staring back at him in open disbelief, and more than a little fear. Why the shock? Vanus is sure Mannimarco has wanted this for literal centuries! Never being one to hold anything back, he vocalizes this: "What's wrong? Hasn’t this been your goal with me all along?" He supposes he can’t blame Mannimarco for being suspicious though. He'd been trying to kill that god of his for as long as he's known of him after all. The God of Necromancy.

"All right," Mannimarco finally replies. And that’s that.

Mannimarco insists that the ritual must be on the 27th of Last Seed. A date currently months away, and a day that is utterly arbitrary by all of Vanus’s considerable knowledge of astrology. He allows it though. This was Mannimarco’s show.

They travel to an island further west than Vanus, or anybody else still living, Vanus suspects, has ever been from Tamriel. A place of power, Mannimarco says, once sacred to the Sload. Sealed away from scrying and remote workings in general, to guard against its use during the Thrassian War, they are forced to travel to it via clipper. The captain is understandably wary of the coordinates he is given. Coordinates that by all appearances were nearly off the map of the known world. However, the small fortune Vanus promises him sooths his misgivings in the end, and they set sail.

When they arrive, Mannimarco sends their transport away, to Vanus horror. "We can portal from here just fine. We simply cannot arrive by it."

Vanus has never created a portal so far from home before. Theoretically, linear distance didn’t matter. But still... 

Mannimarco notices his fretting and has the gall to snark at him for it. "Vanus, you wrote the book on subliminal transportation. Certainly you're not afraid?"

"Don't be absurd! I... simply wish to get this over with that’s all. Where are we going to sleep now?"

Mannimarco tactfully ignores the fact that Vanus had asked for this meeting in the first place. "We shall have to sleep rough. Discreet as our hosts were, I did not wish to 'tempt fate' with their curiosity."

Vanus supposes this is Mannimarco’s way of being considerate. His wraith certainly had no qualms about killing anyone who stumbled into something they weren't meant to see. Barring Vanus himself of course.

This island uncomfortably reminds Vanus of Artaeum. A tiny coral button surrounded by clear turquoise water as far as the eye could see, it is breathtakingly beautiful and terrifyingly lonely all at once. Staring out at the perfectly still waters of the beachhead, coarse sand crunching beneath his boots, he casts detect-life out of curiosity and forcibly suppresses a burst of nausea as he finds nothing. Not even the smallest minnow or mollusk had a home here. Even the coral that made up the isle was dead beneath the surface. He doesn’t have the nerve to cast his newly developed 'undead' version of his spell. Instead, he follows Mannimarco inland, to a tallish outcropping of rock that he can now see hides the entrance to what was presumably a system of caves.

"You have been here before." Vanus states unnecessarily, wishing to break the unnatural silence. Of course he has. How would anyone know of this remote blister on the surface of Nirn otherwise? He suspects not even the Sapiarch of Cartography knew of this place.

Mannimarco answers anyway. "Yes Vanus. I fought in the All Flags Navy, against the wishes of the Order." He scoffs. "I was nearly excommunicated for that even then. So you see Vanus, your 'discovery' of my methods was only one of many indiscretions on my part."

Vanus ignores the jab in favor of this far more interesting revelation. “ _You_ in the Navy? Why, for Aubris' sake? Don’t tell me you wished to set yourself up as King of the Sload!" Though Vanus certainly wouldn’t put it past him.

Mannimarco smirks at that, clearly flattered Vanus thought him capable. "Hardly. As a healer in training, I simply wished to witness the source of the plague up close for further study. It was an excellent decision on my part. My notes were foundational in discovering effective treatments and eventually a cure, if the disease was caught early enough."

"Naturally. Though why would you have been disavowed for that?" Vanus now genuinely wants to know. That was exactly the kind of thing the Psijic Mandate demanded they bear witness to.

"Because dear Vanus, as I said, I fought.” He frowns in concentration, casting out a wave of etherial blue into the caverns ahead of them. The prickle of necromantic energy settles on Vanus's skin and he holds back his instinctive revulsion. "It was necessary for me to learn martial skills for simple self-preservation. Once I had, I found I had quite the aptitude, as well as a visceral enjoyment of the 'art of war'. I am most certain _you_ understand that reasoning, Vanus."

Vanus doesn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, he casts a light and strides ahead of Mannimarco, curious to see what's below.

The rough textured walls did not emit light as such, yet Vanus somehow still has no trouble finding his way, even when his own light had extinguished itself after several minutes. He scrapes his nails along their crumbly face, feeling the strange magicka rub off with the grains on his fingers. He can see Mannimarco smiling out the corner of his eye, which makes him wary. This particular magic was no doubt the unpleasant variety if he was so pleased to see Vanus indulging himself so. 'Stop that,' he chides himself. He was here to learn, first and foremost. He needed to see for himself in this, and he needed to be strong for it.

Mannimarco moves ahead of him when they come to a fork in the path. He goes right and Vanus has the contrary thought to go left, but he follows anyway. He could explore later. The ritual wouldn't be for another 2 days, as they had arrived early to allow for travel to the isle. 

15 minutes of a slow and steady descent later, they emerge from the narrow coral tunnel onto a sight that has Vanus frozen in his tracks.

The huge cavern looming before them was nearly identical to the Dreaming Cave on Artaeum, although a very primitive version of it. The ridged walls curved gently in a logarithmic spiral up high enough that Vanus couldn’t see the peak at the top, though the strange magic still allowed his eyes to see clearly in the lightless space around him. In the center stood a crude hollow, containing still, black water. The "waters of oblivion" most certainly. That dense fluid that held back the void even as it allowed travel through the liminal barrier to the various planes within.

"A lesser mer would not be able to see at all," Mannimarco comments offhandedly. "Hence the Order's addition of mage lights to the cave on Artaeum. For the benefit of our former peers." 

"Is that so?" Vanus preens at the complement and moves closer to the dark pool. He had only been in the Dreaming Cave once. That time he had- 

At any rate, he hadn’t the opportunity at the time to see the Oblivion gate up close.

Vanus is almost to the edge of the pool before a hand grabs his shoulder from behind and he is forced to halt.

"Careful Vanus. This pool is completely unwarded. Unlike the Dreaming Cave, if one steps into these waters, they will simply fall through."

Oh. Vanus gulps discreetly, looking down at the blackness at his toes. "Fall to where?"

"Why Oblivion itself of course," Mannimarco answers, clearly amused and entirely unhelpful. "Though precisely where depends on a number of factors." He slides his arms around Vanus’s waist from behind. "My contingent was stranded here for weeks while the officers debated whether to wait for help or have their mages portal us all home. Meanwhile, I and a few others took the opportunity to explore."

"And what did you find?" Vanus steps back from the edge, conveniently pressing closer to Mannimarco in the process. Those arms tighten around him in answer. 

"A great and ancient temple, though it was not clear to what entity. The site had long since been abandoned, yet the power of the place could be felt even by the laymen of the crew. Surely you feel it for yourself Vanus?"

He did. The sharp cold buzz against his senses was near impossible to ignore down here, even with his constantly in-place mental wards. One could be driven mad by it if they sat in it too long. Old Magic. The kind he tried to avoid on his part, and the kind that Mannimarco couldn’t get enough of.

"Let’s head back. I’m hungry," he announces, pulling away. He goes back the way they came, not looking behind him to see if Mannimarco followed.

They set up camp further inland, beneath a crude stone pavilion, no doubt part of Mannimarco’s aforementioned temple. Magnus is clear and hot here, and there is no breeze to offset it's harshness, so Vanus conjures one himself, waving his hands in a loose figure eight, adding a bit of cool mountainous nip while he's at it. Ah, much better!

He turns around to find Mannimarco staring at him with the oddest look on his face. Heh, he must be a sight for sure, with his new wine tinted robes fluttering in his self-created breeze, his recently trimmed hair framing his face just so. Mannimarco always did like him best in shades of red.

He ignores him for a few moments more, graciously allowing him to look his fill, before approaching their makeshift lodgings. Vanus tries not to wrinkle his nose at the idea of sleeping in a tent. He honestly hated camping. He had too many experiences of too many long and lonely nights. Nights where he went to sleep so hungry he wasn't sure he'd wake up again the next day-

He shakes his head of those now far distant memories and enters the tent. At least it was a proper standing one and not one of those awful lightweight ones he was forced to use in his various expeditions.

They dine on a selection of preserved meats and cheeses and thick Breton bread and soon after, turn in for the night. Or at least what passed for night this far west. Apparently, the light lingered near the edges of eternity.

Vanus wakes the next morning warm and limp, tucked firmly against Mannimarco’s chest. 

'Mmmm, perhaps roughing it isn't so bad after all...' a tiny whisper in his mind, before he dozes off again.

Vanus wakes a few hours later, slightly cooler than before, now absent a certain mer. He casts his senses out for Mannimarco specifically and finds the faintest trace of him in the direction of those caves. The deep magic there must be blocking the signal as it were. Vanus has no desire to feel that buzz against his skin again so soon, so he sets out to explore the surface. It only takes him an hour to walk from one side to the other at a leisurely pace. Truly a blink and you miss it proposition. 

Mannimarco had said his crew had discovered this isle completely by accident, whilst retreating from a battle, their ship badly damaged though still watertight. Once the more magically educated of them had seen the true nature of this place, they had immediately placed all manner of wards obscuring its location, in hopes that the enemy would not inconveniently remember it in their time of need. Mannimarco being one of the original wardens, knew the correct coordinates of course. Now here he was again, over 1000 years later, hoping to somehow use this obscure, naturally occurring hole in the barrier between worlds to contact his long dead, or, more precisely, not-yet-undead, god. A god who Mannimarco claims has been silent ever since his failed attempt to ascend to said godhood at the expense of Molag Bal.

Vanus suddenly has a very bad feeling about this whole idea of his. Mannimarco had been downright agreeable over the last year. Still following Vanus around Tamriel, still playing along at Vanus’s "domination" of him, keeping his _predilections_ out of Vanus’s sight for the most part. Indeed, he hadn't heard of necromancer troubles from his guild in ages. Of course, that could be due to his own slightly relaxed stance on Necromancy as guild policy. Honestly though, even if he had remained steadfast, he'd have no doubt been outvoted by his own cabinet, especially in regards to their expansion into Elseweyr.

But it was still so odd. Mannimarco was as contrary as he was. They simply could not be together for any length of time without at least a little bloodshed. The only time Mannimarco was ever this patient was when he was planning something, and now Vanus is afraid he might just know what that something is.

"Is it my fault again then," he asks the still, humid air as he stands on the opposite shore, looking out to an identical sea. "My fault for getting him ousted from an isle where he could do almost no harm, to a world ripe for the plucking? My fault for hating his vile profession so, that he was driven to attempt ascension the way he did? My fault for-"

"Your fault for what?" Vanus nearly jumps out of his skin at the amused chuckle into his ear. Large hands slide around his waist and tug his stiffened spine against Mannimarco’s front. Vanus clamps his mouth shut and internally scolds himself for getting distracted by his own voice. No wise person allowed themselves to be absent-minded in the presence of a snake. Especially not _this_ snake.

"My fault for not smiting you when I had the chance,” Vanus bites back. He turns around to face his snake and dares him to answer that one.

Mannimarco looks down at him, face now expressionless. "The ritual space is ready. We may begin tomorrow evening, if you still so desire."

Ignoring him completely then. How rude. Vanus has half a mind to say no, just to see what he does in response. In the end though, he settles for dropping his forehead onto Mannimarco’s shoulder with a resigned sigh. "Yes I so desire. Let’s see what this god of yours has to say."

" _If_ he is there to say," Mannimarco murmurs to the top of Vanus's head. "As I have said, he has not spoken since my... attempt. For all I know, my failure has rendered us Not."

Oh. That’s a possibility Vanus had not thought to consider, though he realizes now that he really ought to have. Mannimarco has always claimed his ascension happens in the future, though he conveniently could never name the when or the how. Vanus had originally thought him the worst kind of liar for it. Now, having had far more experience with soothsayers of all kinds, he realizes that Mannimarco’s "prophecies" are par for the course really. Hence his own utter lack of faith in them.

Mannimarco though. Mannimarco believed in fate so ardently that he would, and has, given his entire being over to it. Tucking his own arms around Mannimarco’s waist, Vanus dares to hope that perhaps fate would do them both a favor for once and stay both dead and silent.


End file.
